


Misbehaving For Days

by Emono



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: 10 Little Roosters, 10 Little Roosters AU, Because it's a damn, Consensual Infidelity, Dirty Talk, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Protectiveness, Roughness, Shameless Smut, True Love, but Gavin hates it, druggedup!Michael, so he fixes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had always been Michael-and-Gavin, and it's time to prove it. A murderous dinner party is as good as place as any. "The killer was killed, and then there was one"? What kind of life could he live without his Michael? He's going to get the money, get the boy, and the good life. If he has to do it by extreme measures, so be it. Marriage is easily broken in death and a few drops of poison can go a long way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misbehaving For Days

**10 Little Roosters was amazing and I decided to write some classic Mavin to celebrate the birth of a humorous and awesome series. The violence is non-graphic but the porn is not. So, people die, but they're kind of already dead. And excuse the plot I made up. This is really just a reason to write smut. Spoilers, I guess?**

 

**The gifset[<3](http://emono-omae.tumblr.com/post/102104974276/you-could-kill-all-of-us-but-not-your-lovely)**

 

* * *

 

 

“No, Michael! My boy!”

 

There was a breathless moment through the whole room.

 

“He's properly dead! Gus, you killed him!”

 

o0o

 

Gavin sighed in relief as he watched Barbara collapse to the floor as the long-acting poison finally took her out. The blonde made a beautiful picture sprawled out on the tile, big eyes staring lifelessly up at the lights as faint foam smudged up her red lipstick. She'd landed near Lindsay, who Miles had turned against very quickly and shoved a small paring knife into. The group had dissolved very quickly after the first bloodshed and he'd managed to keep himself small and blameless through it all. His name had hardly been tossed around when the accusations started flying.

 

But now they were dead – all dead. He tilted his head back and took a nice, full breath. His ridiculous tie was gone and the first two buttons of his dress shirt were popped open.

 

It had been a messy game of chess but he had played it well right to the bloody end. Best of all, he had managed to point the blame in a way that had kept his hands practically clean and the others riled up until they were tearing each other's throats out with their teeth. His co-workers, his friends...his enemies, his transgressors. The ones who called him an idiot, who made fun of his inquisitive nature and creative mind. They used to turn their noses up when he held his Michael's hand and snuck kisses whenever he could. They didn’t understand, not one. They snickered at them and said it wouldn't last, that it was a fling, that two boys in Texas who argued as much as they did didn't stand a chance at making it. Especially with one of them being so frustratingly married.

 

Gavin once said they were “made for each other” on a podcast and the guys had laughed him off the stage.

 

There was a low groan somewhere behind him and his blood went cold. He whipped around and scowled when he saw plaid and a blood-spattered white tie. There was red smudged in ruffled blonde hair and across the man's strong jaw. Bruises from Burnie's hands were vivid along the Gent's neck – the attack had been real but the death had been faked.

 

Ryan always was a tricky fucker.

 

“Rye,” Gavin began, slowly turning his palms out to show he was unarmed.

 

“Save it,” Ryan rasped with a glower that almost stung the Brit's skin. The man sounded as if he'd been munching on gravel straight out of the blender. He was a quick on his feet for a man who had been choking and sputtering on the floor not thirty minutes ago. He had moved onto the stage and above Michael's limp body before Gavin could think of charging. “I should've known. You were a moron but you played innocent well.”

 

“This _moron_ outsmarted all of you,” Gavin pointed out sharply. “Mad King my fat arse. You went down like a bitch, Rye-bread.”

 

“I know he's not dead.”

 

Gavin paled and his hands fell limp at his sides. “W-What?”

 

Ryan straddled his boy's chest. A hunting knife slid out of plaid folds with a flash of the sheath that had held it. The blade was a dull grey but the edge shined dangerously as it flicked through the air and settled at the fleshy curve of the Jersey boy's neck. The bastard had sharpened it before, he'd planned this, or did Ryan always have a weapon on him? _The kilt. I should've checked up the bloody kilt!_

 

“You checked him. You said he was dead. We were so stupid to believe it.”

 

Ryan pressed the blade down hard on Michael's neck. As if to prove him, a slow throb of a pulse pushed against the edge and warm blood bubbled up. The pulse was faint but _there._

“You could kill all of us,” Ryan scoffed, eyes narrowed into slits, “But not your lovely little boy. You couldn't kill Michael. Your _soulmate_.”

 

The weight of his hidden pistol felt like a brick under the grip of his belt. His fingers twitched with the urge to grab it but he didn't, not yet. “You think my boy's fit? I knew you wanted him, Rye. You always did look too long. I'm shocked. You have _kids_ , you filthy old man.”

 

“This isn't about me.”

 

“You sure do like to make it about you.”

 

“Why?” Ryan demanded, knuckles white on the knife. “You can't possibly collect a bounty if we're dead. We've never done anything to you and to murder us – to turn against your friends – why, Gav, it's positively Haywood-esque.” The Gent's lips twisted up in a smirk. “Or were you too stupid to think it through?”

 

“I got an offer,” Gavin replied honestly, eyes straying to the blood trail that led to Chris's hunched form. “Kill the lot of you real criminals and get as much money as I'll ever need. No police, American or otherwise, and I run free.”

 

He glanced down at the Lad who looked for all the world dead. “And Michael?”

 

Gavin shrugged, tucking a hand behind him and slipping under his tucked shirt. “What's all the cash in the world if I don't have anyone to share it with?”

 

Ryan's pretty eyes went so comically wide, blade coming up with his hands as he held them in surrender. “Wait, Gavin, don't! Just think about-”

  
  
Gavin took aim and popped off three rounds. Three painful jolts went up his arm and rattled him down to his bones, elbows threatening to shatter. The smell of burnt powder hit his nose and the gun threatened to fall out of his hands. He'd never shot a gun before and he hoped it was the last. It wasn't the intense sensation of firing it was the results that results that excited him. Ryan jerked wildly as the bullets caught him in the shoulder, the chest, and the third sunk into his gut with barely a batted eye. The blonde gasped at the ceiling, shining crimson droplets dribbling over his lips before he slumped. Ryan didn't even have the good grace to move off his boy. His head lulled forward, chin tucked to his chest, and the ragdoll appearance told him the man was dead.

 

“Fucker,” Gavin spat as he thumbed back on the safety and laid the gun on the table. He knew this was going to happen, he just fucking _knew_ he'd end up having to shoot a straggler. Ryan was too dangerous to keep alive. Maybe if it had been Chris or Barbara...but Ryan? No, he had to go. He would've sang like a songbird with all he'd seen. The Brit went up and snagged him under the arms and dragged the hefty weight off his boy. He tossed the body aside with a grunt and wiped his hands off on Ryan’s suit coat, cleaning himself off.

 

Gavin pulled a slim, black case out of his pocket and carefully sat in his boy's lap. He tugged off Michael's nice jacket and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling one sleeve up. “I'm here, my boy. My Michael.”

 

He unzipped the case to show off a syringe set with a small, clear vial latched with Velcro. Gavin did it just how Geoff told him to – he slipped the sterile needle out of its casing and tucked it in place, screwed off the lid of the vial and slipped the needle inside the soft top. He slowly drew up the liquid to the amount he'd been told before he tucked the body of the syringe between his teeth. The elastic band he pulled out of the case stretched well and he tied it off above Michael's bare elbow. He flicked a finger against the skin, eyeing the blue veins, before he took the syringe back in hand and pushed a little to get the air bubbles out. _Double check, Gav. One bubble and he's dead._

 

“My boy,” he whispered reverently. He slipped the needle in and plunged the drug, triple checking that he got the vein. He'd practiced several times and he silently prayed he hadn't mucked everything up. If he'd truly killed his boy he would lay here with him until the police came. He didn't want to live another day knowing he'd snuffed out the only life he'd ever cared about besides his own.

 

Everything was put away before Gavin cupped his boy's cheeks and whispered his name over and over.  Michael's face was pink but he was cool and still. Gavin slotted their lips in a desperate kiss as he smoothed red curls, fear seeping into his gut when the other didn't respond. “Please, Michael. Don't leave me. I'm so sorry. I've ruined everything, love.”

 

The first big breath could've been his imagination but those light lashes started fluttering against his cheeks and he dared to hope. Michael moaned under his breath with a frown, stirring lightly under the Brit, fingers twitching and toes curling in his shoes. Gavin stroked his face with the back of his knuckles and hummed happily, other hand laying over his heart. He made sure to get off him so he could have more room.

 

“G-Gav?” Michael sounded wrecked, drunk. It took a few minutes of careful petting before Michael could open his eyes and look around. His body was like lead and his blood felt like thick syrup in his veins but he was awake, alive. Hurt, doe eyes blinked up at the Brit. “You t-tried to kill me?”

 

“Michael,” Gavin cooed, tucking an arm under his love's head to try and make him comfortable, “My boy, how could I do that? I drugged you, love. Harmless, really.”

 

“You drugged me?” he whispered as he looked at the champagne glass sitting on the platform with them. “I thought I was dead. I was choking, I couldn't breathe...everyone was looking and then I was on the floor. You were on me and then – then it was black.” Confused tears welled in his eyes and he gazed up at his boyfriend. “I thought you went back on the deal. Y-You scared me, Gav. I couldn't stop thinking that you...you didn't want me anymore.”

 

“You're everything I want, you're all I want,” Gavin swore fiercely, lightly grabbing his chin and rubbing a thumb along the Lad's bottom lip. “You gave me no choice, love. I couldn't talk you out of this plan and it was so risky openly blackmailing everyone like that. This deal was for _us_ and I had to take it a bit stealthier. But we've succeeded, you're alive, and that's all that matters, yeah?”

 

Michael sat up on his elbows, arms shaking weakly. “Where's Lindsay?”

 

Gavin's jaw clenched and a sharp pain shot through his teeth from the way he grit them. That woman...the one Michael had married for the insurance and to appease his family. The one he fucking _lived_ with. Gavin couldn't hate her at first, she was too sweet, and he'd taken his own fake girlfriend for spite. But the two women had recently started blackmailing them, Meg pushing marriage and Lindsay forging inheritance papers. They were going to tell their families if they didn't comply. They’d practically shoved the Lads to this.

 

“She's dead, Michael. Her and Meg...they're fucking _dead_. We're free.”

 

Michael's eyes softened in sadness and the Brit snapped, letting go of his chin to grab a fistful of his shirt to _shake_ him. “Don't you fucking feel bad for her! She was trying to tear us apart! I fixed it, Michael. I fixed everything. We can leave and no one's going to come between us again.”

 

A tear slipped down his boy's cheek and he brushed it away. “We agreed to kill them, love. She was hurting you, remember? The way she talked to you, the disgusting names she called you.” Gavin winced. He could still hear her now. _Faggot. Cocksucker. God damn man-child._

 

“You refused to sign the insurance and she slapped you around until you agreed. You couldn't hurt a lady.” His chest went tight as he remembered the red bruise his boy had come over with after the horrible incident. “So I hurt her for you. The drugs are just making your mind a little fuzzy.”

 

“I...I remember.” Michael sat up on his own, shaking his head to make his fiery curls bounce. He struggled to get to his feet and when he did he swayed heavily. He stumbled off the stage and down onto the tiled floor, shoes clapping loudly as he staggered into the nearest table. The impact knocked two champagne glasses over and the bubbly liquid spilled easily across the surface. The Lad panted and leaned hard on it as he looked around the room, gaze lingering on each body as he tried to comprehend the extent of the damage.

 

“I know it looks gruesome, but think of what we're fighting for,” Gavin stated, standing up and brushing himself off. “No more nagging wife, no more worrying about bills or listening to them bloody _laughing_ at us when our backs are turned. We'll have enough money to _live_ and travel like you wanted, love.”

 

“It's over,” Michael sighed, slowly moving against the table. “Fuck, thank God.”

 

Gavin noticed the shift of the other's hips. “Boy? You okay?”

 

“I feel good,” Michael admitted as he rubbed his growing bulge against the edge of the table. “Too good. I-I don't know, I...I feel warm.” He plucked his glasses off his face and tossed them aside, revealing dark eyes. “You did all this, Gav?”

 

“I did.” He walked up to the other and laid a hand on his shoulder. He was shaking. “Michael, you're not okay.”

 

“Just give me a minute.” Michael shook his head again, cock throbbing in his boxers with each slow grind on the edge. The edges of his mind were still blurred, the shock of near-death experience making his skin prickle and his nerves fire nonstop. His fingers moved restlessly on the table and he tried to push down the swell of arousal but it felt too good to deny it. His eyes kept flickering from Lindsay's slumped form over to Burnie, to Miles to Chris, to Barb and Gus...and Ryan. Ryan, there on the stage, with three drying bullet wounds and closed eyes. There was a hint of something on his handsome face that was close to surprise. “Did you shoot _Ryan_?”

 

“Yes, love. He was going to kill you.”

 

Michael's hand slowly came up and touched the cut on his neck. Ryan had the balls to try and kill him? His plan to confront everyone head on and instigate some kind of firefight or firing squad mentality really had been stupid. The fantasy of being a complicated character in this whole spectacle had dug its claws into him from the moment it hatched and he hadn’t been able to shake it. He had seen himself as an anti-hero, an underdog claiming the pack, but the true star had saved him.

 

 _Gavin._ His boy, his savior, his entire world for the past two years. By law he was Lindsay’s but his heart had always been with Gavin. Those hypnotic eyes, that laugh, the fineness of his hair and the long line of his body…he’d become everything Michael didn’t know he needed. Even with his lungs aching from the drug that had nearly killed him, he found himself just as eager for his boy’s touch as he’d always been. Gavin may have been extreme but he should’ve known he would never kill him. He didn’t listen, he’d been stubborn, and now things were fixed in a round-about way. Those long fingers were curled around his covered cock and moving just right, squeezing at the head and dragging the dampening material along the length. He felt so _stuffy_ , a huff escaping his lips as he clawed at the tie at the base of his throat until it slithered to the floor. Buttons popped off of his tight, expensive dress shirt and finally he could _breathe_.

 

Michael pushed his hips back in a thirsty attempt to feel the other’s generously long cock but there was something else there beneath his underwear. He was loose and kind of wet, his hole gaping in a way that was almost obscene. Why was he-?

 

 _“Right there, Gav, right fucking there. Harder, God damn it, I want to fucking feel it while I’m standing in front of those assholes with a gun in their fucking faces._ ”

 

Oh. They had gone at it in the hall closet right before they’d come in. He was still dripping from all the lube his boy had used so they could go rough. He blushed at the memory and slapped a hand onto his boyfriend’s hip in an attempt to pull him close. “Gonna’ fuck me again, Gav? Stretch me out like…” He lost his breath as his head swam, vision going hazy. An arm wrapped around his waist as if sensing he wanted to fall and he let his weight rest against the table.

 

“What?” Gavin prompted with a sly smirk, rubbing his boy’s cock slow enough to make the Lad whine. “Want me to stretch you out like you’re my nice little slag? Use you up until I get you all wet inside?”

 

 _No condoms_. Michael huffed in relief, jutting out his ass in invitation. They’d been together so long but once Lindsay and Meg had gotten into the mix they’d started using rubbers. He hated it. He liked to feel used afterwards, dripping his boy’s spunk and only able to ask for more. That mindless need was more powerful than any heart-stopping drug. It wasn’t the same with protection and it was one of the biggest things they fought about.

 

_I’m not fucking you bare while you’re still rolling around with her!_

 

Michael’s eyes ran along the curve of Lindsay’s hip, the body only a dozen feet away, and he knew those days of arguing were over.

 

“You’re so hot for it, Michael,” Gavin cooed as his fingertips slid under the elastic band, teasing over the very top of the other Lad’s eager cock. “What’s got you so wound up, I wonder?” His lips skimmed a pale ear, voice low. “Is it because I killed for you?”

 

Michael’s mouth dropped open and bucked uselessly against the Brit’s teasing hand. Gavin killing for him, to protect him…the very thought made him _throb_. It felt like all his blood was either in his cheeks or his cock and everything else went all tingly. His sweet, carefree Gavin with his dominant streak and his contained intensity had ended more than half a dozen lives so that they could forge their own together. How long had they talked about breaking away and truly experiencing what their youth had to offer? The places they wanted to visit, the things they wanted to see and taste and _feel_. To settle down somewhere exotic and simply enjoy being with one another until their clocks ran out. Maybe adopting a few kids and just being at peace where no one could judge them.

 

While Michael had nearly fucked it all up, Gavin had laid out that path for him. He was stunned, grateful, but most of all _hot_.

 

“Fuck me,” Michael pleaded, hand tugging feebly to try and get the other boy close.

 

“I don’t know if I should,” Gavin hummed teasingly as he took back his hands and quietly started undoing his own belt. “You’re still drugged and there’s all those dangerous consent issues, love. I wouldn’t want to take advantage.” He worked open his fly and eased his cock out of the slit in his boxers, giving himself a dry stroke or two to get himself fully hard. It wasn’t difficult with the sight of Michael shaking and lusty laid out before him. He kissed just behind the Lad’s ear and Michael’s legs nearly gave out. “But look at you, so ready for me. You’ve been panting after my knob since you saw me, haven’t you? All perfectly hot and needy, bouncing on my lap after the first date. I hardly got a meal in you before you were ready for me to bust a nut in that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

 

“Tastes better than a steak dinner,” Michael joked, the rasp in his voice making him sound as desperate as he felt.

 

Gavin delivered a swift bite to the sweet spot on his boy’s neck, relishing the nice moan he got like a reward. “If I’m going to stick my cock in you, take off that bloody ring.”

 

Michael ripped off the dark wedding ring and tossed it aside without an ounce of hesitation. Gavin grabbed those fluffy red curls and slammed his boy down to bend him over the table. Both sets of boxers were shoved down and their lustful flesh was revealed with twin sighs, the cool air making them shiver pleasantly. The head of Gavin’s uncut cock peaked out from its protective sheath, all nice and pink. He rubbed it along his boy’s hole and enjoyed the feel of leftover lube and sweat and a few thick drops of pre-cum.

 

“Just do it,” Michael begged, fingertips dragging noisily over the cheap table. The feeling of his boy’s cock rubbing along his sensitive rim was driving him up the fucking wall and feeding that _need_ inside him. “Fuck me up, Gav.”

 

“Oh I will, boy.”

 

The first thrust was almost too tight and they both grunted as they adjusted. Gavin clamped a hand on the back of the Lad’s neck and he fucked his way in until that slick, grasping hole grew slack and compliant around his cock. “That’s it. My lovely little boy, you're all open and sloppy for me. You sound so wet like a proper lass.”

 

Michael's face burned at the compliment. The Brit's fingers clawed at his collar and yanked it down, more ivory buttons popping as the shirt slid down between his shoulders and exposed the thin wife-beater underneath. A sudden vulnerability hit him and he tried to curl up on himself, closing his legs and drawing in his arms, but Gavin wasn't having it.

 

“Don't get shy on me now, boy.” He leaned over Michael to growl into his ear, hips still pumping to work his cock into that needy hole. “There's a lot of blood that's been spilled in this room all to keep you safe and alive, Michael. You should be damn grateful. Crazy git, waving a gun around trying to be dramatic. Was so worried Ryan was going to hurt you. I couldn't let them gang up on you, couldn't let them hurt my boy.”

 

Michael relaxed and straightened up, looping an arm behind him and lacing his hand in golden brown hair. He tugged hard and rubbed himself against the lanky body he loved so much, the curve of the Brit's cock dragging _just right_ inside him. Long, hard flesh that filled him up perfectly and left no inch of him neglected. Gavin played lightly at the hard nubs on his chest, trailing down to pet his flexing stomach, and then finally down to his cock. The older Lad started whining under each moan, distress furrowing his brow as he saw the bodies spread around the room.

 

“Stop,” Gavin ordered softly, prying his grip from the fleshy hip before covering his boy's eyes. “Don't look, my Michael. It's just us here, no one else. They don't matter anymore.”

 

“Just us,” Michael breathed with a joyous smile, eyes closing as he pushed back into every thrust, reveling in how good it all felt. The Brit’s hand fell from his face to splay over his chest. “God, Gav, thank you. Fucking _shit_ , we're really doing this. Just us, boy, no one else.”

 

“No one else,” Gavin promised, the words burning deep into their senses. It seared into the whorls of their fingers, the curves of their lips, etching down into their very cores until it was all they knew as they strained against one another for that sweet, physical release.

 

Michael’s almost girlish moans bounced off the walls and fell on lifeless ears. The table screeched before the Lad called out his release, pulsing and oozing thick cum all over the puddle of clothes around his ankles and the floor. He collapsed on the table and buried his flushed face in his arms, sweet surges of pleasure working through his limbs. Long fingers stroked over his sweaty back through the shirts, skirting across his bare shoulders worshipfully. He spread his blushing, wet thighs and let the younger Lad keep fucking into him. He grunted with every thrust as he slowly got more oversensitive, softening cock tingling as the last effects of the drug trickled from his system and fizzled out. His name was cooed into his ear in that pretty lilt his boyfriend had and then there was a flood of heat.

 

Gavin was glad he fought the urge to close his eyes as he shot because the sight of Michael’s blissed out face was by far the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. His lovely mouth all open and wet and the delicious _whimpers –_ he wanted to bottle it up and get drunk from it. Maybe it was just that gaze of someone sickeningly besotted, but his Michael was a _vision_ , bewitching. He slumped over the older Lad’s back and panted into his nape, breathing in all that musk and sweat that came from a good fuck. He let his cock go limp inside its warm sheath. When he slipped out it was with a wet sound and a few drops of spunk.

 

“My Michael,” Gavin cooed with one last kiss.

 

“Fuck.”

 

The word was huffed out in surprise and saturated with fear. Gavin was about to ask what was wrong but with one glance at the recently locked door he knew that same terror. He swallowed thickly and struggled to get up his underwear and pants, confidence gone, and Michael fumbled with his own in the same, nervous fashion. They blushed and averted their eyes, covering themselves up quickly from the man’s half-lidded gaze.

 

“What a mess you made,” the man tisked, stepping over Adam to get to the kitchen area. A bottle of Jack was taken off the counter along with a tumbler, each clinking beside the sink.

 

“I-I did everything you said,” Gavin stuttered out as he buckled his belt.

 

“You did,” the older man mused, popping off the cap and pouring out half a glass of golden liquor. “And you managed to keep Michael alive. I’m surprised.”

 

The ginger Lad wet his dry lips and buttoned up his shirt, crumpled tie getting shoved into his pocket. “You said you’d get us off.”

 

“And I am, you little ungrateful shit.” The venomous tone was so strange coming out of the usually carefree man. “Joel’s in his office right now. I’ll take that puny gun and finish him off like an accident and no one will know. But you two need to be gone by then.”

 

“And the money?” Gavin inquired hesitantly.

 

“Michael’s car,” the man grunted breathlessly, taking down the glass with two gulps before slamming it back on the counter. “There’s two duffle bags in the back. It’s all in cash.”

 

“And they won’t figure out it’s gone from the company?”

 

“Not if you get the fuck out of the country before tomorrow night. There’s two fake ID’s for each of you. Don’t be fucking idiots with them. Lay low for at a few months.”

 

“What’s the story?” Michael demanded, trying to sound tough with seed leaking down his thighs and staining his pants.

 

“A pair of star-crossed lovers like you? You bolted before the party even started. There’s an email on Burnie’s computer from Gavin that shows you’ve been planning on running away together for months. There’s another from Joel to Meg with some pretty damn incriminating statements so your ass is covered with offing her.” Another shot was poured out. “The party and the pity invitations for you two were the last straw. What a good distraction a company get-together would be for you to slip out unnoticed.” There was a rough chuckle before his tone grew more serious. “Pack your shit and get out. I don’t want to see either of you again. If you get yourselves in trouble, I will _crucify_ you, you understand?”

 

There were twin mutters of _yes, sir_ and their fingers laced together.

 

“Romantic assholes. Get out of here. You’ve got eight hours before anyone shows up.”

 

The Lads were quick to make their way to the door, ready to leave, but Gavin gave pause. He got close to the man and touched his arm, frowning thoughtfully.

 

“Geoff…I wish this wasn’t goodbye.”

 

“It has to be, Gavvers,” Geoff sighed with the heaviness of a much older man. “You two were meant to run off together. And I’m meant to own this fucking company. We got what we wanted, we just can’t have it together.”

 

“It could’ve been different,” Gavin offered breathlessly, fingers suggestively dancing up the inked skin. “We could’ve made you happy. _I_ could’ve-”

 

Geoff snatched his chin and the Lad froze, wide eyed as he saw the icy expression on his friend’s face. “I _am_ happy. Now take your fucking Michael and get out of here.”

 

Gavin tried not to whine as he nodded and stepped away, heart aching deep inside his chest. He ignored Geoff’s angry muttering and took off, each step taking him closer to his future and farther away from his past.

 

No one was laughing now.

 

* * *

 

**Hope you guys liked that. It was unplanned, unoutlined, and generally spontaneous. I plan on writing more for 10 Little Roosters as it comes out. If you guys wanna see that, tell me :)**

 


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